


Creatures of the Night

by HopeofDawn



Series: A Stitch In Time [2]
Category: Coldfire Trilogy - C. S. Friedman, Legacy of Kain
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-12
Updated: 2011-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-15 14:46:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/161869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeofDawn/pseuds/HopeofDawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raziel and Tarrant find a few moments of solitude;  can two creatures of such power come to any sort of accord?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Creatures of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of explanation: this was originally written for a long-running crossover RPG called Multiverse Haven (now sadly defunct). The basic premise of the game was that characters had been pulled from multiple worlds and marked as Chosen, in order to eventually restore a dying multiverse. The main storyline takes place in Nosgoth, however there may be occasional references to characters, magic systems and some borrowed vampire terminology from other canon sources. This scene is coauthored by the inestimable Yzaksama.

The Ancients' celebrations had gone late into the night, and Raziel had found himself almost overwhelmed by the constant attention. The Ancients' hopes ... were almost to bear. Not that anything was said, but he could see it in their eyes--the hope that their 'messiah' would lift their curse, and return them to the graces of their God. In the face of that, how could he give them such bitter truths instead?

So instead he made his apologies, and escaped into the darkness of the city streets as soon as he could. Still clad in the crimson robes the Ancients gave him, he wandered, looking at the graceful buildings--so many of them already empty. Kain and Tarrant were about, he knew--if pressed, he would search for them. They did not need his protection here, at least, if indeed they ever did.

Dark, shifting things drifted on the winds above. Innumerable tiny red eyes winked down at him, glittering like malevolent stars.

The cold that preceded him was unmistakably, definitively Tarrant.

Glancing upward, Raziel stopped, folding his arms, and watched the darkness descend with no particular expression on his face. This darkness, as unnatural as it was, did not frighten him. Let Tarrant make his entrances as he liked.

"Not one for feasting, I take it," he remarked.

"I am very well fed," Tarrant contradicted pleasantly, after landing and reforming into his usual vampiric guise. "And you are dressed quite splendidly."

Raziel glanced down his robes, giving a tiny shrug. "They are comfortable--and much more suited to flying, I must admit. Though I doubt they would survive a battle well." He looked back up, surveying Tarrant's newly-angelic appearance. "You seem to be ... quite impressed with the Ancients. In appearance, at least ..."

"It's convenient to be considered civilised," Tarrant said quite indifferently. "One shape is as good as another, and this one is comely enough."

"Oh, is that all?" Raziel eyed him skeptically. "Or did you simply feel inadequate without wings of your own?" The Power, for all his terrifying nature, seemed to be more than a little bit of a peacock ...

Tarrant smiled darkly, "I don't need wings to be more than adequate."

"Well, you are certainly not lacking in confidence, that is for certain," Raziel remarked. He began walking again, strolling down the darkened boulevard. "What think you of this--turn of events?"

Tarrant fell in beside him. "The Ancients' fall?" he asked casually. "Their celebrations in your honor? Or your machinations regarding your own clan?"

Raziel shot him a sidelong glance at the last jibe. It appeared Kain had not been as closemouthed as Raziel might have wished--but there was little to be done about it now. "Any of it--or all of it. You are the sole outsider in our group, after all. Mayhap it will give you a perspective we lack." Which was as generous as Raziel was prepared to be with the Power--while simultaneously confirming nothing of what the Power had already said.

Tarrant said nothing for a little while, and they walked in silence. Eventually, he asked, "What do _you_ think of it?"

Raziel snorted at Tarrant's coy reply. "Should I trade you answer for answer then, Power? I did ask first, after all ..." He certainly was not about to lay bare his plans and motives to Tarrant; not without gaining some measure of the man first.

Tarrant inclined his head, though it was more of an acknowledgement than an affirmative. "It's regrettable that it's had to come to this. Unsurprising at present, but regrettable nonetheless."

"Regrettable?" Raziel snorted softly. "Are you saying I should trust you then, Power? Lay bare my soul, and throw myself upon your mercy?" Which, given how unmerciful a creature Tarrant seemed to be, seemed a particularly masochistic course of action ...

"I think," Tarrant said very, very dryly, "That you might find my inclinations in these matters to be quite similar to your own... even if our reasons differ."

"In this particular case, I find I have a great deal more to lose," Raziel said evenly--as close as he'd come yet to admitting his true plans. "So tell me your intentions, Power, and I may be inclined to return the favor."

Tarrant glanced sidelong at him. "Have you ever been consigned to Hell, Mer Raziel?" His tone and his expression were absolutely neutral.

Raziel stopped, and faced him. What was the purpose of such a questions? "I have," he said after a moment, his own expression stony.

Tarrant lowered his voice. "Tormented by the Unnamed, your suffering some pointless entertainment for an uncaring God's pleasure?"

Raziel crossed his arms, his wings tucking in even tighter to his body--small movements, but still noticeable for those who knew where to look. "I do not know if my suffering produced any measure of pleasure for the creature that called itself the god of that place, nor what your 'Unnamed' might be--but as to the rest ... yes." His voice was hard as he added, "Why are you asking these things?"

"I've seen the face of the God of this world," Tarrant murmured. And he didn't like what he'd seen, that was plain enough, though he kept his expression under control. "Your actions will deny it the souls of your clan."

"...yes," Raziel admitted, watching him intently. "For as long as I am able, at least ..." He squared his shoulders, doing his best to take Tarrant's measure. "Do you intend to try and stop me?"

"No." Tarrant gazed down at him, his silver eyes glittering, reflective. "I will not interfere."

"Ah." There was a certain easing of tension at that answer, though Raziel did not relax completely just yet. "May I ask why?"

"Spite," Tarrant smiled, though very, very faintly.

"I see." Tilting his head, Raziel favored him with a dark smile of his own. "A measure of revenge, is it then--to spit in the face of hell in such a way?" He could hardly argue with that, especially if his clan benefited from it.

Tarrant nodded again, just a fractional tilt of his head. Something of Raziel's expression was mirrored in his own. "You perceive correctly."

Raziel exhaled slowly, and turned to walk once more. "To battle the Hylden, we needed an army--and there was little chance of raising such in Haven," he admitted slowly to the Power at his side. "Even if Kain and I--or the Powers--manage to push them back to the confines of Nosgoth, that still leaves this world subject to their ravages, and that ... cannot be allowed." Nosgoth might be dying regardless, but Raziel did not intend to allow the Hylden's depredations to speed the process.

Tarrant's form shifted into his 'human' guise. It was the one which he preferred most of all. "Preserving your own legacy, of course, is conveniently coincidental."

"It is not," Raziel said flatly. He did not care if Tarrant knew the truth on this. Better that the Power realize now that should he try to interfere, Raziel would fight him tooth and claw for his clan. "It is integral. They are not a 'legacy'--they are MY clan. ***Mine***. My warrior children ... and my pride." He gave Tarrant a narrow-eyed glare. "I would risk a great deal more than this to preserve them."

Tarrant gave him another faint smile. His eyes were cold, but there was no spite in them. "I risked everything for my creation. I cannot begrudge you the same sentiment."

"And did you succeed?" Raziel asked. He knew next to nothing about the Power, after all--whereas Tarrant undoubtedly knew more about Raziel than even Kain did. It was an inequity that Raziel found ... galling.

Tarrant looked away-- ahead. "Somewhat. My continued existence will allow me to oversee the progress of my Church. Now that it's in the hands of fallible humanity... it must nonetheless be managed, if more subtly."

"You created ... the church on your world?" Raziel said, somewhat surprised. Tarrant hardly struck him as a devout or priestly individual ... "Why did you dedicate yourself to such a thing?"

"Religion is a powerful instrument of control, don't you think, Mer Raziel?" Tarrant asked softly. "It was necessary to unify the hearts and minds of humanity into one goal-- to subjugate the fae." Energy, the translator -- even here! -- supplied. "For our very survival, there was no other choice. Humanity itself must be ordered. Faith itself must become a weapon."

Raziel frowned, puzzled by the answer. "What is this--energy, that required such subjugation?" If he heard Tarrant aright, the man had created his church not through true belief, but purely as a tool, or weapon to use against this ...energy. As nonsensical as that seemed ....

"A force natural to the planet itself," Tarrant explained. "I suppose that one could view it as raw magical potential... influenced by thoughts, fears, dreams, everything in a man's heart, his mind, even what's hidden from himself. Only a unified consciousness could bring that to heel..."

"So ... every whim or fancy a man could have--this energy could be used as magic to manifest it?" Raziel asked, both intrigued and appalled. "With no spellworkings, no effort?"

"Would you like to control what it is that manifests?" Tarrant inquired dryly. "If so, use a spell and a good deal of effort. Otherwise, you'll likely just be devoured by your own summoning... or worse."

"So you created a religion in your world to keep men from manifesting such creatures? Or to give yourself more power over this magic--this energy?" Raziel mused aloud.

"Both, if only to create a world which nullified such energies. One in which a device works the same, every time... one in which a child's simple nightmare won't destroy half a village." Tarrant would have made his own self obsolete.

"A worthy goal." Raziel walked in silence for a few moments, then gave the neocount a sidelong glance. "...you do not strike me as the kind of creature who does such things simply out of altruism alone ..." Which was a roundabout way of asking 'what was in it for you?', but it sufficed.

That was a complicated question, so Tarrant answered as best he could. "...I became what I am, sacrificed those things most beloved to me, in order to bring this future about. The fate of my world... of everything that my ancestors fought to create, the potential that humanity could achieve... it was regrettable that to insure these things, I was forced to employ... unorthodox methods to insure my continued involvement."

"And you did all this solely for ensuring your people's future?" Oddly enough, Raziel's reply was neither mocking nor disbelieving--simply neutral. "How strange--I would have not expected such self-sacrificial altruism from one such as yourself." Even Raziel, for all his concern over his world, had at his heart self-serving motives--a desire to preserve himself, to preserve his clan ... or at least the vampire race. And perhaps, also, the desire to spit in the eye of the Elder God and all its self-serving pawns and prophecies.

"I was not one such as myself until I became one such as myself," the Neocount smiled wryly.

"More riddles, Power?" Raziel thought on it a moment. "So you are saying that your sacrifice turned you into a baser--and vampiric--creature?" He glanced over and raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

Tarrant's gaze shifted away. "That was what the Unnamed attempted to make of me," he murmured. "And for a time, I was that, content to feast upon blood and pain. My nature is not what it was before that transformation... it was my humanity which I sacrificed, along with everything else... but my ultimate goal has never changed." He could objectively speak about these things.

"...I see." And Raziel did. How odd, to find out just how much in common he had with Tarrant.

"Is there anything else that you wished to know, Mer Raziel?" Tarrant finally asked, because what else could be said? Raziel knew what self-sacrifice was, Tarrant knew his history well enough. A platitude given to this man would be stupid.

"Not at the moment, at least," Raziel said quietly. "Except ... have you been treated well? Or learned aught of the Ancients that I should know?"

"By you and Mer Kain, or by the Ancients?" Tarrant sounded pleasantly amused, though it rankled him deeply enough... though he had expected these things as a matter of course. "Of the Ancients... they like their feathers preened, they revere a god who cares nothing for them, they are still learning about their curse, and they are too trusting. All of which you undoubtedly know."

The other man's mockery garnered him a narrow-eyed, unamused look from Raziel. "Yes--all that is easy to see. I was thinking of more strategic concerns; any factions who did not welcome our presence, any rumblings from the humans that also live in this place. But perhaps you have not been in a position to hear such things." If Tarrant felt so abused by himself and Kain, then he was perfectly welcome to remove himself back to Haven. Raziel had far too many concerns as it was on this journey to burden himself with the elaborate courtesies the Power apparently expected.

"The humans in the palace seem quite subservient," Tarrant stated placidly. "The humans beyond... well, you know how that ends up."

"Yes. Humans have short lives and even shorter memories; they will turn on the Ancients, though the question remains whether or not it will be sooner rather than later." Raziel said soberly, grim-faced. Against all odds, he found that for the most part, he liked what he had seen of the Ancient culture--their craftsmanship, their reverence and faith, misguided as it was. Too noble, perhaps, to survive in the grim world that Nosgoth would become.

Tarrant shrugged. "Rational creatures, even humans, dislike to be subjugated. You would turn on me, if you could, would you not?"

Raziel glanced at him. "It would depend on whether you gave me reason," he said evenly. Of course, creatures of Tarrant's temperament and his own seemed destined to clash. Perhaps that was the point the neocount was attempting to make. "In this case, the humans' rebellion has only sealed the fate of Nosgoth, by suborning the Pillars--and ensuring far harsher masters to come in the future." First the Sarafan, then the Hylden, and then the Empire--even when ruling themselves, humans were brutal and violent. And compared to the fate of human vassals in the age of Kain's empire,the Ancients' rule was barely any leash at all.

"That fate," Tarrant stated quietly, "Was sealed by humans, Ancients, Hylden, Vampires, even a God. Ancients can't help their own nature-- when an entire Empire is as it is, change comes slowly. Vampires are the same. All of these things are the same. Individuals like yourself, Mer Kain... these change the course of history, or set it in stone. But the responsibility for all of these things lies with everyone, whether it's the Ancients whom we favor, or not."

"If the responsibility lies with all creatures, then that would seem to follow that any creature could affect the outcome of the future ... but from what I have seen, that is not the case," Raziel said in reply. "At least on Nosgoth, almost all creatures are impotent before the flow of time and the turn of the Elder God's Wheel. And those few who are not ..." his mouth twisted wryly, "...find their meddlings avail them little in the end." Kain had tried several times, after all--and what had it gained him except the substitution of one enemy for another?

Tarrant only murmured, "Did they not?" Look at what they were doing, after all!

"Ah yes." Raziel was silent for several long moments. It went against the grain to admit weakness--especially to such as Tarrant. "Perhaps it is ironic, but my hope is that by our actions, we are fulfilling the requirements of time, rather than attempting to divert its flow ..." His clan *had* disappeared, after all. Who was to say where they had gone? Into the darkness of death, or ... elsewhere? Such vague hopes were all he had to rely upon to stifle the fears that he might be leading them into an even worse fate by tampering in such a way.

Tarrant smiled faintly. "Ultimately, doesn't it become the same? You're responsible enough in your meddling, at least."

"I suppose that shall have to be enough," Raziel said, looking up at the stars. The patterns were different than what he knew--and yet they were still all the same that he had seen, night after night over the centuries of his life.

"That's how it always is." Tarrant sounded almost... content?

Raziel inclined his head in silent acknowledgment. How strange, that the first person to truly understand his strange and circular life was a far-from-benevolent creature from another world. Life was truly full of irony and mystery ...


End file.
